


Mine

by LilianaSnow



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Adorable, Bondage, Bottom Andy, Claiming, Claiming Bites, Cult themes, Cults, Date Night, Dom Patrick Stump, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Ice Play, Idiots in Love, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Love Bites, M/M, Making Love, Marking, POV Andy Hurley, Pseudo Satanism, Satanism, Sensation Play, Shameless Smut, Short & Sweet, Smut, Sub Andy Hurley, Sweet, Top Patrick, Trans Male Character, Wax Play, religious ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 06:46:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilianaSnow/pseuds/LilianaSnow
Summary: Andy and Patrick are in a non-violent cult. Patrick is a dominant in love. Andy is the submissive returning it- and loving it.





	Mine

I smiled at Patrick as he kissed my tattooed hands. He'd been in the cult longer than me, knew our bonding rituals better than me, and knew how it was scary to be coming in to this. For me, at least.

I knew he didn't have to court me, not with all the big, fancy flowers- my favorites, sunflowers! as wel as more well known romantic ones. Not with the moonlit walks and candlelight dinners. I knew that if he truly wanted to, he could have chosen anyone else, or not used the romantic gestures. So it was only natural that when he asked if I wanted to bond to him, I said yes.

Of course, he made me dinner first. He let me eat as much as I wanted. He watched me protectively as I finished my meal.

The cult emphasized kindness and acceptance. It alsk emphasized trust, and love, and hope. Art of all forms was encouraged. The "marriages" were not final. They had a slightly more dominant member and a slightly less, or more than slightly. They lasted only a year. They would be renewed each year or left forgotten. It wasn't called marriage. It was called bonding.

We entered his room in his house, lips locked. He pushed me onto the bed. I whined and ground up some, moaning at the friction. He started unbuttoning my shirt, belt, pants. I let him do the work, as was emphasized. He kissed me over and over as he undressed us both, traced my tattoos gently. When he lifted my arms over my head and started to tie me up, my heart stopped beating for a moment.

"This good, baby bear?" he asked, tracing and ghosting his hands down my arms.

"Y-y-yes, that's perfect," I stammered in reply.

He smiled and kissed me, then opened the lube. The small pop made me jump. He slicked three fingers and crossed two of them, sliding them inside of my ass.

I gasped and shuddered as he started working them, in and out and spreading perfectly. When he entered the third, I nearly died of pleasure. He knew how to work them, knew how to make me tear up and widen my eyes in wonder. When they brushed my prostate, I let out a moan that he seemed to savor. He brushed it again, drawing a longer, louder one to the surface.

"You're so beautiful like this, Andy," he whispered, crooking and scissoring inside so I barely could catch my breath. "So open, so fuckable... So ready to be bonded and marked. To be mine." He leaned close and I briefly wondered how on Earth his fingers didn't break. "Are you ready to be mine?"

"Yes, Patrick..." I moan-panted. "I want to be yours. I need to be yours. I need you to claim me. Please."

Patrick pulled his fingers out and dried them off. He lit a candle and held it over me, waiting for the wax to drip. When it hit my skin, I whimpered. It was hot. It burned. But at the same time... It was hot in a good way. He used the falling wax to draw the pentagram on my torso, following it soon with ice. The ice soothed the burn but left its own pain ingrained. I could see why it took a year to do it again.

He redrew the pentagran five times, tracing it with ice each time. Finally, my gasps and pants were shushed as he set them aside.

He lifted my hips and pushed in, finding my prostate and easily rolling to stimulate me. I groaned in ecstasy, watching him roll his hips into me and respond to my moaning with his own obscene noises. He kept a slow, lovemaking pace, just the way I liked it. He preferred to slam in after two fingers, to make me sore and sob and climax twelve times before him. But this, this was perfect.

He shifted so his rolls pushed him into me harder. I cried out in pleasure as he continued the pace. I could feel liquid pooling inside my belly, could tell it wouldn't be long. I didn't know what I was begging for, but I started whining and begging and pleading.

His mouth felt my collarbone and bit, hard enough to draw blood which he lapped up, and his hand started to work me as his other hand gripped my waist tightly. 

Soon, I was cumming into his hand with his name on my lips. I was his, completely. He was mine as soon as he mirrored my finish, finally stopping and holding me gently.

The same ceremony repeated many, many times. I refused to change it up afterwards. Ever.


End file.
